


The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

by VampirePam



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Coda, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Meld, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Survivor Guilt, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePam/pseuds/VampirePam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk is haunted by past failures and visions of death.  Spock must deal with the confusing consequences of melding with him.  Bones begrudgingly sorts it all out.   Set in the aftermath of "Into Darkness."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Could Read My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR spoilers for Star Trek: Into Darkness.

Spock bolted upright. Though the scream that had awoken him had since faded into silence, the pain and fear contained within it still stabbed at his mind - it was only then that he realized that in his mind was exactly where he had heard it.

_Jim_. His body was up and running before he had time to figure out any more than that. Judging by his experience a few weeks prior, this had somehow become his reaction to any sign of his captain in distress. Had he been in a calmer frame of mind, Spock might have felt an inclination to investigate this impulse.

As it was, the only thought running through his head was the quickest route to Kirk's quarters. Precisely two minutes and thirty-six seconds later, Spock was skidding to a stop in his doorway.

The second he located his captain, something in Spock's abdomen clenched. Kirk's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his skin pale to the point of being essentially white, and his entire body wracked with shivers.

Suddenly, their eyes met, and the whiteness of his cheeks was broken up by a flash of red. "I'm fine, Spock," Kirk mumbled quickly, "Go back to bed."

Spock hesitated. It was decidedly against regulation to disobey an order from a superior officer. It had to be noted, however, that said superior officer did not appear to be in any condition to be dispensing orders.

"Captain..." Spock began. He took a few, deliberate strides across the room and situated himself on the bed across from Kirk. "I mean no disrespect, but surely you must see that all evidence points to the contrary."

He raised one hand to Kirk's forehead and lowered the other to his chest, persisting even when Kirk flinched back. "In addition to your all too apparent physical distress, your temperature is several degrees above normal, and your heart is beating rapidly."

To Spock's surprise, Kirk made no further protest. On the contrary, he closed his eyes and leaned just a little into Spock's touch.

Spock could feel each rapid swell of Kirk's chest as he tried to calm himself down. When a few minutes worth of attempts resulted in no change in his heart rate, Spock suggested, "I should fetch Doctor McCoy."

"Don't." Kirk clutched at the hand Spock still held on his chest. "I've already woken him up every night this week with these damn nightmares."

"Someone else, then," Spock said, still pivoted to depart. "Another doctor, perhaps -"

"No!" Spock realized in that moment that he had never seen Kirk panicked before. Though it was an emotion he must have experienced often on the bridge, he never allowed it to show in his behavior. He was always strong, always a leader. Now, though, his captain's trademark confidence had completely disappeared; in its place was pure, frenzied fear.

His confusion and concern must have shown on his face, for Kirk squeezed his hand tighter and said, voice shaking, "They'll take her away from me, Spock." Spock did not need to ask who 'her' was. "After what Marcus did, any sign of mental instability - any at all - and Starfleet will give me a permanent on-planet gig faster than you can say 'found unfit to lead.' "

Increased exposure to Kirk had taught Spock not take such statements literally. Instead, he said, "Captain, in the past few weeks, you have been through more than any one person should ever have to bear. Surely Starfleet would not begrudge you the right to react to it."

Several emotions flitted across Kirk's face, more quickly than Spock could identify them. The hand not clutching Spock's clenched into a fist at his side. When he raised his eyes to meet Spock's, they were burning. "If they knew what was inside my head, Spock...what I see when I close my eyes. I'd be lucky if they didn't lock me up."

Spock's abdomen clenched again. Kirk was broadcasting his pain so intensely that Spock would have sworn he was feeling it himself. Surely an unaccountable sensation. It was not as if he and the Captain had...

_Of course_. He should have thought of it earlier. But could it work? With his captain's health on the line, surely it merited trying.

"If it is your mind that pains you so, I may have a solution." Spock hesitated. "It is rather unorthodox."

"Bones has been hitting me with everything he's got for a week now," Kirk observed. "Pretty sure we're past orthodox."

"I believe my counterpart made you familiar with the concept of mind melding."

Kirk's eyes widened, his head shook vehemently. Spock continued quickly, "It is not a thing to be offered lightly. Indeed, among my people, a mind meld is an act of great intimacy. I would not suggest it if I did not genuinely believe it capable of rendering some relief."

Kirk appeared to consider this carefully. Finally, he sighed and said, "Spock, that last meld wrecked me when I was at full power. I don't want to think of what one would do to me in this condition."

Now it was Spock's turn to shake his head. "Much of the emotional upheaval you experienced on the prior occasion was due to inadequate preparation. I can only imagine that in the other timeline, my counterpart had grown accustomed to engaging in a meld with yours. Thus, he incorrectly assumed that you would react to them as he once did."

"Any intrusion that I would make into your mind could only be possible with your complete willingness. On this, I give you my word."

"All right," Kirk said quietly. Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your word is more than good enough for me."

His abdomen clenched again - but differently, somehow. Spock pushed that aside in favor of more pressing matters.

"So, how do we do this?" Kirk asked. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in a gesture Spock had come to recognize - in others, at least - as nervousness.

"A cross-legged position is traditional," Spock suggested. He assumed it himself and waited for Kirk to follow.

It was when he began to comply that Spock realized his captain was still holding on to his hand. He took advantage of the opportunity to lead this hand down to Kirk's side, before repeating the process with its mate.

"Are there any magic words?" Kirk asked. He was still broadcasting nervousness. "Abracadabra, hocus pocus, that sort of thing?"

Spock smiled, a gesture he believed humans to find reassuring. "In the olden days, ritual words were always used, but as they hold no meaning for you, I had intended to leave them out. There is one thing, however, that I do wish to say."

"James Tiberius Kirk, do I have your permission to enter your mind?" Kirk stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and closed his eyes. "It is important that you know this permission may be rescinded at any time. I will go no further than you wish me to."

Kirk smirked. "I'll be sure to tell you to back off if you start trying to unhook my mind bra, but thanks." The smirk faded. "Really, thanks. I'll let you know if we're going in too deep."

Spock leaned forward and prepared to place his index and middle fingers on Kirk's temples. Though this position was not strictly necessary for a meld, Spock found comfort in the familiarity of it. "Ready?" he asked. Spock could have sworn he heard Kirk's affirmation before he spoke it.

The second his fingers touched Kirk's skin, he was transported. No sifting through blurry images and confused feelings, hoping for a picture to appear - one touch and he could feel his captain's presence all around him. Even in what were surely the outer layers of his mind, his will was overpowering: Spock could feel the strongest impulses of his personality - his drive to succeed, his courage - warring with his emotions - fear, pain, uncertainty.

_Spock?_ Jim's voice seemed to emanate from everywhere. It held no tone, but this did not matter; Spock was immersed fully within his state of his mind.

Though unsure how to attempt this sort of communication, Spock did his best to reply. _I am here, Jim._ On what Jim would have called 'impulse,' he added, _Everything will be..._ what was that phrase McCoy was always saying? ... _all right_ _._

The frenzied pulse of Jim's emotions seemed to calm slightly. When Spock tried to isolate any specific memories creating the cloud of panic diffusing through Jim's mind, however, he found himself coming up against something solid and impenetrable.

_Jim?_ There was no response, but he could feel a sort of focusing on his words from the environment surrounding him. _If I am to help you, if your mind is to heal...you must allow me to access the root of your feelings._

The wall shook and weakened, but still held. Spock felt fear enveloping him from all sides. Perhaps a less direct approach was needed here.

_Jim_. Spock had observed a slight calming in Jim's mind whenever he said his name, and resolved to use that to his advantage. _Forget for a moment what we are doing here. Focus your thoughts somewhere else._

_Where?_ The fear was still there, but it was permeated by little ripples of curiosity.

_A place that you feel completely safe._ Though he had been instructed in the implementation of this particular technique, Spock had never before had occasion to use it. He just hoped his meager skills would be enough.

The sceneless void around him blurred for a moment, then reshaped itself into a tranquil beach scene. Lilac water lapped against red sand as two suns began to dip below the horizon, tinting the whole scene with orange light.

_My grandparents had a vacation home here when I was a kid._ _My mother used to bring me up for a few weeks every summer, at least before she got remarried_. _I'd read, swim, fish when my grandpa let me borrow his equipment. It was one of the happiest times of my life._

Spock felt enveloped by warmth - whether from the phantom radiation coming from the setting suns or the happiness emanating from Jim's memories of this place, he was not sure. Regardless, he took it as a positive sign that this location would function quite well. _This place is most beautiful_. _I believe it is ideally suited for my purposes._

_Thinking of going for a mind swim, Spock?_ The newfound lightness flooding Jim's mind pleased Spock considerably; he wished he did not have to dampen it.

_Perhaps another time._ The scene around them sparkled with what Spock could only interpret as laughter. _But for now, I need you to anchor yourself to this scene. Try to maintain in your mind the feeling of calm and safety that this place gives you. It is my hope that this will allow you to access more painful memories without being overtaken by them._

_I can't promise anything. But I'll do my best._ Spock sensed in Jim's mind an increased determination to match his words; it gave him hope.

To Spock's surprise, the twin suns on the horizon began to shake and reverse their direction. As they ascended, the entire scene was filled with an increasingly brilliant light.

One final blinding flash, and Spock found himself ripped from paradise and hurled into the chaos of the tumbling Enterprise. He felt the coursing flow of Jim's adrenaline as he clung to a railing. The world seemed to slow as an ensign plummeted past, the terror in her eyes visible as she tried and failed to grab Jim's hand.

Spock was struck with a crippling wave of despair, followed immediately by an equally powerful one of guilt. Jim's voice echoed everywhere, his thoughts broadcasting over the memory. _I failed her. I failed all of them. My crew is dying, and it's all my fault._

Before Spock could attempt to separate himself from the intense emotions bombarding him - to comfort or calm - the scene tilted and spun again. He was transported to a different deck to witness the death of a different crew member - a middle-aged man dressed in the red of engineering crushed by a falling beam.

He had only a few seconds to take in this horrible sight before the picture changed yet again. The scene continued to spin at a dizzying pace through death after death, as if trapping them inside some sort of hellish centrifuge.

Most would have been dulled to the sight of death after witnessing so many; for Jim, each subsequent casualty seemed to increase his agony, which had reached such a peak by the end of this parade of destruction that Spock was having significant difficulty maintaining the meld. Over the top of it all, Jim's words played on an awful loop. _I failed them. I failed them all._

Then there was silence, and the only words spoken were Khan Noonien Singh's. He sneered menacingly at Kirk as he said, "You cannot even guarantee the safety of your own crew." Amid the shame and disappointment overshadowing the memory, Spock could feel a steadily growing current of rage.

"Oh, you are smart, Mr. Spock." Same sneer, same mocking tone, but this time it was coming from the comm screen. Then Khan struck Jim and the current of rage became a torrent, drowning out everything else in the memory.

Suddenly, Spock was screaming Khan's name again, staring at Jim's lifeless body through the glass as rage crackled around him. _Spock. Spock!_ Jim's voice dispersed the rage easily. It was then that Spock realized: these had ceased to be Jim's memories, his emotions. They were Spock's own.

The shock of this revelation brought him back to his senses, and the space became Jim's again. The scene before them rotated and rewound, until they were on the other side of the glass, looking out.

The sheer force of the agony emanating from this memory nearly knocked Spock out of the meld. Every cell in Jim's body seemed to be tearing itself apart. Yet this seemed almost secondary in comparison to the range of emotions warring for dominance in Jim's psyche.

It was fear that Spock separated first. The image of an endless void, black and cold, hung suspended in Jim's mind, depriving him of breath as surely as the irradiated cells in his lungs. His every thought seemed to shake and shudder with it.

Beneath the sprawling reach of fear, there was a deeper pain - sharper, more pointed. Its identity eluded Spock until he began to pick out little bursts of images and thoughts sparking from it: the Enterprise speeding its way toward an unknown planet; an annoyed Dr. McCoy chasing Jim around the bridge with a hypo; Uhura laughing with Scotty as he bumped his head tinkering with the communications console. _Regret_.

But as Spock watched himself kneel and extend a hand, felt Jim's regret sharpen and cut through him like a knife, an entirely different feeling began to surface.

It burned hot, so as to singe and warm simultaneously. The heat seemed to radiate outward from the place where their hands met on the glass, casting everything in its fiery glow. Soon it was so omnipresent that Spock truly didn't know whether it was coming from Jim's mind or his own.

The molten glass between their fingers shimmered and melted away, and naming the feeling became somehow very important. The distance between them slowly closed, and Spock could feel the name lurking just on the edge of the scene, if only he could find it...

A glancing brush of fingertip on fingertip - the name flashed in front of him for a moment, then disintegrated in the white-hot light that had engulfed everything in an instant.

Thrown back, Spock gulped in the cool air of Jim's quarters with desperate relief. His heart raced. His head ached. Hot tears made their way unbidden down his cheeks.

A quick glance at Jim revealed him to be in much the same condition. Spock opened his mouth to inquire after his health, and to apologize for not anticipating the emotional intensity of the meld. Whatever words he might have intended, however, flew from his mind as his gaze found Jim's.

The strange heat he had just felt washed over him once again. _Impossible._ An unusual after-effect, perhaps. Or were the two of them somehow still connected?

"Spock." Jim's voice wavered a little, but remained determined. He began to lean toward Spock, an inch or two at a time. Spock noticed with confused dismay that the inexplicable heat grew stronger the closer Jim got, so by the time he was but a few inches away, it had reached the level of a summer day on his home planet.

Jim seemed about to say something else, but then his eyes blinked tiredly a few times, his arms buckled, and in what seemed an instant he was wrapped around Spock's torso, head buried in the curve of his neck.

Spock felt his breath hitch again. He knew from experience that at such a moment, some sort of action was required. If the ache in his chest was any indication, it was even desired. Logically, this should have prompted him toward it.

But illogically, much to his shame, he could only sit there, Jim falling asleep on his shoulder, and hold out an irrational hope someone would come and tell him what to do.


	2. Young Vulcan, New Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy must intervene to help Spock sort out the confusing feelings he's having about Jim.

When Leonard McCoy awoke suddenly at 4:02 in the morning, it took him a full fifteen seconds to figure out why. No one was calling him. Nothing was beeping. Indeed, if anything, his quarters in Starfleet Headquarters were eerily quiet.

He cursed quietly, under his breath. That was precisely the problem. Every night for the past week, he'd been awakened at roughly this time by an increasingly mortified Jim needing his assistance - though honestly, with everything the kid had been through in the past few weeks, he'd gotten off easy with severe insomnia and potentially debilitating psychological trauma.

Judging by the way his friend had looked paler and less steady on his feet during each subsequent night's visit, McCoy put the chances of a miraculous recovery at slim to very slim indeed.

A far more likely cause of the current symptom - the lack of a cocksure, sleep-deprived kid from Iowa disturbing his nightly rest - was Jim's goddamn martyr complex.

It wasn't hard to piece together: the ashamed look on Jim's face whenever he shuffled in to ask for a hypo of soporific, combined with the fact that he seemed to arrive half an hour later each time strongly implied how guilty he was feeling. Only logical - hell, he owed Spock five credits - that sooner or later he'd give in and stop coming all together.

McCoy was a little tempted to let him live with his own terrible decisions. But who was he kidding? He couldn't say no to Jim. Even when he wasn't asking for anything.

He swung his legs out of bed with a groan that reminded him he wasn't as young as he used to be - like he needed more reminders than the two grey hairs behind his left ear (he'd named them Jim and Spock).

Picking up the medical kit that was already prepared and resting on his bedside table, McCoy slipped into some Starfleet-issue slippers and began to shuffle his way down the hallway toward Jim's quarters.

On the way, he allowed himself to indulge in a little grumbling. Damn kid. What the hell did he think Chief Medical Officers were for, anyway? Or best friends, for that matter. As far as McCoy was concerned, not taking care of James Tiberius Kirk when he needed him - whether it was for a supportive shoulder or a swift kick in the pants - would be nothing less than dereliction of duty.

One of these days, he'd actually tell this to Jim instead of just muttering it darkly under his breath. Still, if his friend was having a night anything like the ones that had come before - McCoy quickened his steps at the thought of it - this was decidedly not the time.

He approached Jim's room quietly, on the admittedly very, very slim chance that he had defied the odds and somehow managed to get some sleep on his own. When he crept round the corner to check on his friend, McCoy discovered two things:

One, he needn't have bothered being quiet, as Jim was clearly deep asleep; two, five years of coming home to find Jim with bedmates of all genders, colors, and species had apparently not been enough preparation for the surprise of walking in to find him curled around an utterly lost looking Spock.

The hypo slipped from his fingers and clattered on the floor.

Spock's head snapped up. "Doctor McCoy!" If he hadn't known better, McCoy would have sworn Spock was relieved to see him. "I...am sure this is a most inexplicable sight."

McCoy could think of a few,  _very_ plausible explanations for it, but given the circumstances, chose not to voice them. "What exactly am I looking at, here, Spock?" He approached the two of them gingerly, lest a sudden movement trigger Spock's Vulcan instinct to avoid emotional moments at all cost.

"Jim - I mean, the Captain - was in distress." Judging by the look on Spock's face, he wasn't the only one. "My attempts to alleviate it with a mind meld achieved...mixed results."

Though McCoy was deeply, madly curious to know precisely what sort of 'mixed results' had been achieved, he was a doctor first. To his surprise, a cursory visual examination seemed to point to something of a recovery on his friend's part. Despite his lingering pallor, Jim's expression seemed peaceful, untroubled - devoid of the taut lines of tension he been seeing there for the past few weeks.

"Is he...well?" Spock's anxiety was all too apparent beneath his clipped syllables. "I fear that I led him into an emotional undertaking for which he was not prepared."

"Actually, according to the readings I'm getting, whatever Vulcan voodoo you worked seems to have done him some good." McCoy checked Jim's tricorder scans two or three times to confirm, but the results were conclusive: heart rate normal, temperature only slightly elevated, breathing patterns consistent with REM sleep.

"You on the other hand..." He shifted the target of the tricorder from his captain to his first officer, and the difference was immediately apparent. "Hell, Spock, for once your blood pressure reading doesn't make you look clinically dead!"

"I will confess to being...unprepared for mind melding with someone in the Captain's emotional state - a careless oversight on my part." Spock continued to remain stockstill despite the fireworks show patently occurring in his body - McCoy would have been impressed if he weren't too busy being infuriated.

"Uh-huh." McCoy let the tricorder linger until he was satisfied that there was nothing wrong with Spock that couldn't be traced to the hazardous effect of emotional disturbance on the Vulcan constitution. "And I suppose your relationship to this  _someone_ has nothing to do do with it?"

Spock started, just a little - causing Jim to mutter something in his sleep, then reposition himself even more snugly against Spock's side. "Relationship? I am sure I do not take your meaning, Doctor."

A thousand snappy retorts zoomed through McCoy's head, but in the end, he settled on a simple incredulous raising of his left eyebrow, followed by a pointed stare.

Spock looked away, a pale green tinting his face. "It is true that Jim and I have become closer over the past few months. While his rather unorthodox style of command has required adjustments on my part, I have grown to respect and admire him tremendously."

"Spock, I respect and admire many members of this crew tremendously, but you won't find me in their beds at four o'clock in the damned morning." The green tinge blossomed into a full-scale flush. "So you want to try that for me again, once more with feeling?"

One of the tears glistening in Spock's eyes fled its confines and began to make its way down his cheek. McCoy cursed internally - he was not cut out for the sight of a crying Vulcan, least of all this one.

"What I feel for him...I do not know its name. It burned through me - his feeling and mine - when we were in the meld, but here in the physical world..."

Damn the man. Damn it, he was a doctor, not a couples' therapist! Damn Spock for making him  _care._

McCoy raised his eyes heavenward before laying a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Much as I'd like to help, this seems like a conversation you should be having with Jim. I would, however, recommend waiting until you're both conscious."

Any faint glimmer of hope he had of prompting Spock to crack a smile was promptly disappointed. Apparently matters of the heart were a serious enough affair to Vulcans to prohibit levity - McCoy was hardly surprised.

Then again, the expression on Spock's face when he finally met McCoy's gaze had him struggling to find his own sense of humor. "I do not know how to begin such a conversation. How can I confess to feelings which have no name?"

McCoy had to bite his tongue to keep from telling him point-blank what name it was typically given; that simply wasn't his to tell. Instead, he settled for, "Well, maybe you should start with something a little simpler."

"Like what?" Ordinarily, McCoy wouldn't let Spock live down asking for his advice. He supposed as a physician, he was honor bound to make an exception for medical emergencies; Spock discovering he had feelings of a decidedly human nature for his captain had to qualify.

"For one thing, Jim seems to be using you as a teddy bear, and you're just sitting there!" McCoy gestured emphatically to the uncertain hovering of Spock's hands in the area of Jim's waist.

"I am not practiced in the ways of comfort, nor of physical affection," Spock explained, sounding chagrined. "But if that is what is required, I...would learn."

McCoy barely resisted heaving a put-upon sigh. Giving a Vulcan hugging lessons - only Jim could get him embroiled in a mess like this. He deserved a damn commendation.

"Consider this your crash course." Ignoring Spock's startled twitch when McCoy seized his hand, he placed it between Jim's shoulder blades, then positioned its mate on Jim's waist. "Now, that's a better place to start."

The utter  _panic_ on Spock's face was annoyingly endearing, broadcasting a clear, 'What do I do  _now_?' McCoy was about to educate him on the finer points of the gesture when his captain rendered the lecture utterly unnecessary.

Still asleep, Jim let out a small distressed whimper, fingers reflexively bunching in the front of Spock's tunic. Before McCoy could even react, Spock's arms were sliding around his captain's torso. The hand McCoy had placed on Jim's back was suddenly tangled in his hair, the other curled possessively around his waist.

McCoy watched in astonishment as Spock murmured some words he couldn't make out - Vulcan, if he had to guess - and Jim quieted once more, slumping completely against him.

"Well, would you look at that." McCoy could barely dim the grin spreading across his face. "Once you get out of your own way, you're a damn natural!"

The ghost of a smile played over Spock's face, though his gaze did not waver from his sleeping captain. "Perhaps my human heritage does have its compensations."

"Yeah, perhaps." McCoy was suddenly very aware of the space limitations of Jim's quarters, bigger than his own though they were. Jim and Spock were ensconced in a little world of their own, and he couldn't help but feel that he was intruding.

"I'll, uh, swing back in a few hours to check in. See to it that you get some rest, too, Spock. Doctor's orders." He began to make his way quietly out of the room when Spock's voice stopped him.

"Doctor McCoy!" When McCoy turned back, Spock was looking at him once more. "Thank you. Without your help, I..."

McCoy saved him from having to finish the sentence by striding over to rest a light hand on Spock's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Spock." On impulse, he added quietly, "That's what friends are for, right?"

He treasured the surprise on Spock's face at the word 'friends' and thought it best to slip out of the room before his tendency for sarcasm ruined the moment. With one last look at his two friends - Spock had resumed staring at Jim as if he were the center of the whole damn galaxy - McCoy headed down the hallway toward his own quarters. And if he couldn't quite help whistling a little tune to himself on the way, well, no one was awake to hear it.


End file.
